


Knight In Shattered Armor

by LostInDaydreaming



Series: Moments in-between [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony is in a dark place right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInDaydreaming/pseuds/LostInDaydreaming
Summary: This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a snap.In the aftermath, Tony is trying to cope. But even if you're made of iron doesn't mean you can't still break.





	Knight In Shattered Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I am s l o w at writing. Anyway.  
> This is set right after IW.

“How is the pain? Does it hurt much?”

“It’s fine, I don’t feel anything.”

It’s not even a lie. The stab wound on his side barely bothers him anymore, courtesy of both wonderful surgical techniques and a significant amount of exceptional painkillers; as for the rest… well, Tony can say in all honesty he hasn’t felt much of anything since he and robo-smurfette ungracefully crash landed in the forest near the Wakandan capital four days ago, a welcomed numbness fogging his mind to the point where he can barely remember if he ate, slept or thought anything at all during that time. 

His honesty however is met with some skepticism by his doctor, who incidentally happens to also be the resident tech genius and recently crowned queen of Wakanda. The girl, not yet in her twenties, exhibits an almost reprimanding frown as she summons a digital scanner that, as the rest of the lab technology, feeds directly into her beaded bracelet, which she proceeds to slowly trace over his body. It’s something akin to FRIDAY’s interface at first glance, but with a level of software complexity that in any other circumstance would have Tony both stunned in amazement and in a frenzy to pick apart and study every last circuit of it. As it is, he barely pays attention while Shuri completes her exam and goes through the resulting data, until she eventually shuts the device off with a flick of the wrist and declares in her heavy accented voice: “It seems to be healing nicely. I still recommend that you rest and not stress the wound too much.”

Tony starts slowly pulling his shirt over the bandages, grimacing only a little when the movement pulls on the flesh underneath. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Shuri shoots him a pained look, and he realizes he made a mistake. The title, which she’s been holding for less than a week now, is nothing to her but a burning reminder of what she lost, combined with all the duties and responsibilities that befell on her way too young shoulders all of the sudden. Good God, how old is she anyway? She can’t be much older than…

_Don’t. Don’t think about him, don’t think about him._

In his haste to flee from dangerous thoughts Tony scrambles out of the infirmary bed with little grace, eliciting a raised highbrow from the young woman and a judgmental stare from her bodyguard, one of those bald women in colorful gear Tony is getting used to see everywhere in the palace.

“If you need any…” Shuri begins, but the only thing Tony needs at the moment is getting out of here. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Again.” He makes an half-aborted gesture with his hand, not even knowing what he’s trying to do except avoid any more questions or attentions. The young queen appears still unconvinced, but wisely decides to save her strength for worthier battles. “Very well. You’re free to go back to your room, Mr. Stark.” She makes the sentence ring with the finality of a farewell. In leaving the room she’s shadowed closely by the guard – what’s her name? There’s a K in there somewhere – whom Tony has never seen more than a few steps away from her charge.

It’s really stupid, a bitter part of Tony thinks. He wants to tell her the queen is safe, or at least as safe as she can be: the danger is gone, the threat has passed. But apparently watching the man you swore to protect with your life turning to dust in front of your eyes is bound to generate a bit of paranoia in a royal bodyguard, which explains why she never leaves Shuri’s side, especially since the Queen Mother was among the other half too. Nobody’s seen her sleep or eat in days. Tony wonders how long she can keep this up.

He leaves the infirmary without the real intention of getting anywhere. He just needs to walk these days, just needs the constant motion to stay ahead of thoughts and memories. If he lets them catch up he’s gonna break, and he can’t afford that, not yet.

Maybe he should call Pepper again. The best thing they did for him here was putting FRIDAY back online on one of their servers, honestly even better than fixing his side wound. He could contact her easily, just to hear her voice since he can’t have her here – and oh _God_ does he want her with him right now. Sadly it turns out halving the planet’s populations caused a bit of employment shortage… well, freaking everywhere, including among flight companies, which is why taking an airplane from New York to Wakanda is currently not an option.

Besides, Pepper has her own problems to deal with, like running a multibillion dollar company that just lost half of its personnel, not to mention dealing with personal trauma as well. She told him she was at her office when it happened, still trying somehow to get a hold of him. She was with Happy when their friend disappeared without as much as a sound, leaving her terrified and without a clue with what was going on.

Now the only thing Tony wants to do is get to her, hold her close along with the few remaining scraps of his life and never let go. He’s stuck in a foreign country instead, unable to move an inch outside the building for security reasons, surrounded by people whose mood ranges from heavily on edge to full blown hysterical.

And it’s about to get worse.

“Boss, there is a message from colonel Rhodes.” informs him FRIDAY through his earpiece. “He says they are ready for the meeting called by Captain Rogers in the conference room on the fourth floor.”

“Right.” mutters Tony through clenched teeth.

He really doesn’t want to do this. For a moment he weighs the option to hole up in his room and sleep for a week, but he’s running out of excuses to deny himself. Also, Steve has insisted on his participation. Repeatedly.

“We need to talk.” he said. “We need to regroup and formulate a plan.” Tony almost found the strength to laugh at that. A plan. Like there’s anything else left to do.

He takes an empty elevator, then makes his way slowly through a series of long corridors. All the way long there’s someone watching him, always someone patrolling the place. It’s usually one of the Dora Milaje, sometimes it’s some other fancy dressed warrior. They all sport grim faces, weapons on display and ready to be used, even if there is no immediate threat. Tensions are still running so high it feels like being under a siege; except they are tensing for a fight that is not gonna happen.

Tony reaches a big double door. He doesn’t pause so not to give himself the chance to reconsider this, just barges into the room with all the confidence that he doesn’t feel.

He’s greeted by the most depressing sight. Earth’s mightiest heroes, or what’s left of them, sit in deafening silence, not even looking at each other. It’s rather sad and pathetic. In the farthest corner is Bruce, clearly struggling with a nervous breakdown. Jesus, whatever happened to him between Ultron and all this really did a number on him. Nat and Clint sit together, the former taking a protective stance over her colleague. Burton showed up at the royal palace shortly after Tony with a devastated face, little Nathaniel in his arms and no one else in tow. He didn’t provide a word of explanation, but no one felt compelled to ask stupid questions. Since then Natasha hasn’t left him a moment, sharing his grief and trying to simultaneously hold him together and take care of the little boy.

On the other side of the room there’s an uncharacteristically quiet Thor, who according to the tales showed up mid-battle in a shower of thunders with mismatched eyes and an upgraded weapon. None of which made a hair of difference in the end. Next to the Asgardian is – and this is still very difficult for Tony to wrap his head around – the murderous talking raccoon. He – it? – did not take well the news about Quill and the others. It’s weird, Tony thought the rat and the blue alien were on the same team or something, instead when they saw each other they fired up a screaming match of thrown accusations that almost ended up with ripped limbs and holes in the walls. Not that Tony cares to understands the logic of cyborgs and aliens, not even the ones Thor vouches for. The pair is now begrudgingly sitting together while they pointedly ignore each other. 

At least Rhodey’s here too, to provide just enough sanity for Tony not to lose his mind completely. His friend is tinkering with one of his prosthetics, but Tony is 99% sure it’s just an excuse to pull himself out of the awkwardness of the moment.

Last but not least, standing straight and unwavering like the soldier he can never cease to be, there’s him. Captain Truth and Justice, the embodiment of the great American Values. Seeing him standing there rock solid, ready and willing to take the weight of the world on his shoulders again, Tony feels neither hope nor comfort, just great, all-encompassing sadness tinged with pity and fatigue. Cap still thinks he’s gonna lead them, still assumes they gathered once again to fight the good fight, because when you get knocked down you get back on your feet and throw yourself at the bad guys again. But it’s all over now. Rogers just doesn’t understand yet.

None of these thoughts transpire from Tony, who nods in way of general greeting and takes his place against the nearest wall, arms crossed and pretended indifference plastered on his face.

Cap acknowledges him with a similar nod. “All right. I guess we are all here then.” Nobody motions to intervene, so he takes it as his cue to go on. “I know it’s been… hard, for everyone, these past few days. But we need to put ourselves back together and plan our next move.” There’s this sort of uncomfortable shudder going through the audience, which Rogers is completely undeterred by.

“We need to set up higher defenses here on Earth and secondly, see if we can find a way to track down Than…”

“He’s not coming back.” All eyes shift to Nebula, who seems to be staring holes in the carpet (to be honest she always looks like she’s ready to murder someone). “My father completed his mission. He has no reason to come back on this planet, or to send another army.” She actually sounds mad about it. Cap takes a bit to recover, then readily resumes: “Well, if that’s the case, do you have any idea where he might be or how we can find him?” Before she can answer the raccoon jumps up and angrily spats: “Wait, do you actually wanna go after that guy? Did you see what he did, or where you too busy napping on the floor after he wiped it with your ass?”

“You’re not serious, are you?” quietly asks Bruce from the corner. “I mean, Thanos is practically an all-powerful god right now, what chances do we even have…”  
“He still has the infinity stones, right?” Cap cuts him off. “We can still take them back from him, and then maybe he’s gonna be vulnerable enough for us to take him down.”

Nebula snorts at that. “Even if you could manage it, it’s not gonna be that easy. Believe me, I tried.”

“It’s not gonna work, Steve.” It’s Nat’s turn to intervene, as calm and reasonable as ever. “Just think about it. How are we gonna leave the planet? In that metal scrap Tony came back in? No, this is just not something we can do. We need to stay here and take care of what’s left.”

“Maybe I could find another way.” cuts in Thor, jaw set in grim determination. “With Stormbreaker I could get us all to Thanos, and then we could make him pay.”

“Make him… are you even listening to yourself?” Rhodey picks that moment to get into the fray, advancing to the center of the room. “Even if we had a chance against this guy, which by the way we don’t, well I’m sorry to point this out but revenge is not gonna solve anything.” He actually has all eyes on him now. “It won’t bring back the people we lost. It’s certainly not a reason to embark on a suicide mission in outer space.”

“That’s not all there is to it.” retorts Rogers. “It won’t be just about revenge. If we can actually take back the stones, maybe we too can find a way to use them. Maybe we can…” He doesn’t have to say it. The implications hang heavily into the air. Even Clint has perked up his head, a worrying glint in his eyes.

“Ah! And who’s gonna use the stones that nobody can touch without blowing up, you?” yells Rocket. Roger does seem a little unsure at this. He cautiously turns to Thor. “I was thinking…” The Asgardian shakes lightly his head. “I don’t know that I’m strong enough to do it. But if I get the opportunity I will certainly try.” A quickly escalating screaming match ensue.

“This is insane!”

“You can’t be seriously…”

“Just consider…”

Despite himself a laugh is startled out of Tony, the out of place sound ricocheting through the room like gunfire. All eyes fix on him, but naturally is the Captain who questions him with gravitas: “Is there something funny?”

Tony can’t recall a moment when he’s been less amused than this. “It’s just… you’re all out of your goddamned minds.” More or less everyone balks at the statement but he doesn’t get them time to recover. “God, you should listen to yourselves. ‘Being ready’. ‘Making plans’. Well, there is no plan, because look at that, we already lost.” He steps from the wall to get their undivided attention, to watch them one by one while he brings home the situation for them.

“It’s game over, lights out. We. Failed.” He puts a lot of emphasis on the word. “The bad guys finally won, and there’s nothing left to fight for. There is no fixing this, no magic solution that’s gonna clean up our mess.” He’s looking directly at Rogers now, challenging him to contradict him with his pointless faith and false hopes. “So yeah, it is a little funny to me that that’s what you guys wanna still argue over, when whatever we’re gonna do literally does not matter anymore. “

Tony looks at each of them in turn, like daring them to argue his logic. Rogers has his jaw clenched and it’s clear he’s gonna start a quarrel any moment now – which sure, bring it, why not – but he’s beaten to the punch by FRIDAY.

“Boss, there’s an incoming call.”

“Not now, FRIDAY.” grits out Tony.

“It’s from May Parker, sir.”

Every thought fueled by righteous rage goes out of the window. The temperature of the room changes drastically: some are puzzled, others are pitiful. Rhodey and Natasha in particular are watching him in a mixture of horror and worry.

It can’t happen here. Besides, Tony has said all he needed to.

“Excuse me.”

He marches out of the room, feeling the burn of everyone’s stare on the nape of his neck. He doesn’t care.

He wanders to a small office a couple of doors over, where he elects to barricade himself in. He starts pacing, leaning after a moment with his back on a desk to force himself to stop. It takes several trembling breaths to collect himself. Despite the fact there’s probably nothing in the world he’d rather be doing less right now he voices to the empty room: “FRIDAY, put her through.”

Tony hears the call connect, a trembling voice immediately filling his ear. “Hello? Can I talk to Tony Stark please?

God, this is already harder than he had imagined. Tony needs to swallow two times just to muster the ability to utter: “It’s me, May.”

“Tony? Oh my God, oh my God.” Her voice quivers harder than ever while taking an unnatural high pitch. “I’ve been trying for days to… oh, my God, Tony, is he with you? Just-just tell me he’s with you.”

Tony’s brain feels frozen, his entire being does. He knows there’s no way he can answer that question. May however barely gives him a second before adding hurryingly: “I know, ok? I know about the vigilante stuff, and the stupid suit, which I should kill you for, but I won’t, ok? I’m not even gonna get mad, just let me talk to him, tell me he’s ok, please, I tried to call literally everyone else but no one could…”

She’s basically blabbering at this point, and that’s when tony realizes she already knows. Of course she does. May is anything but stupid, and Tony’s lack of response speaks just as clear as actual words would, every second of delay on his part more damning than the previous one. She’s instinctually filling up the empty space between them just to delay the inevitable, to hang onto that sliver of hope just a little bit longer. Until she can’t lie to herself anymore.

Until Tony delivers the blow that definitely shatters her world.

“May…” he starts, but nothing else comes out. What can he say, really? Not a million excuses nor any possible explanation will ever make this better. Most of all, he can’t bring himself to admit it out loud, to confess to her that he was responsible, he failed to protect her child and couldn’t bring him home alive. He can’t even offer a simple ‘I’m sorry’ because he’s so acutely aware of exactly how little, how late it is for that.

It turns out one word is enough. Silence falls on the other end of the line, deafening and definitive.

Then May Parker breaks.

“No. No no no no no, oh my God, no…”

Tony scrunches his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the table so hard it digs painfully into his palms. Every sobbing hiccup is a stabbing wound, every ‘no’ a condemnation. You let him die. You didn’t save him. It’s your fault, of course it’s your fucking fault.

“I tried.” Tony whispers desperately, knowing he’s making pointless excuses but pushed by the urge for her to understand. “I tried to send him home, but there was nothing…”

He can’t go on. For all he took from this woman already he can’t even offer her a complete sentence. He should add that to the ever-growing list of his failures.

He doesn’t know how long he listens to May cry on the phone. In the end she calms down enough to ask one more thing. “Was he… Did-did he…” she tries, and another piece of lead adds to Tony’s stomach when he realizes where this is going.

_Don’t ask. Dear God, please don’t ask._

If Tony’ s sure of one thing is that she’ll never know exactly what Peter went through.

_I don’t wanna go Mr. Stark, please…_

For some reason though May never finishes to pose her question. Instead she pauses, sniffles a little, then quietly asks: “Where you… with him?”

Tony looks at his left hand, where he can still feel the ashes cling to his skin. Even now the scene replays in front of his eyes like it’s happening all over again.

_I don’t wanna go… I’m sorry._

Tony doesn’t know if his answer will be comforting for her. He knows for him it’s not.

“Yes.”

After a brief pause, the only thing May says is: “Ok.” Neither of them speaks again for the longest time.

It takes Tony a while to realize she disconnected the call.

 An hour later – possibly closer to four or five, Tony really couldn’t bother himself to check – he’s managed to find the kitchen, or at least something that resembles a kitchen; better yet, he retrieved a bottle of something incredibly alcoholic, which was just what he needed and that right now he’s putting to good use. Sadly, for all his good intentions about opening the country to the rest of the world, T’challa hadn’t quite managed to smooth out the import laws yet, so the Wakandan market is still closed off to western booze. As far as he can tell, what Tony’s got is some kind of local distillate, which despite the unfamiliar taste works just fine for his purpose.

The liquid burns on his way down, shot after shot until Tony rapidly loses track of them. He keeps downing one after another, ‘cause there’s gotta be a point when May’s cries stop echoing through his head and he’s not gonna stop until he reaches it.

_Don’t tell aunt May._

Stupid kid. Stupid kid and stupid promises, and what was Tony actually thinking…

A shadow falls on him. He turns a bleary eye to the side to find none other than Captain America standing over him, complete with somber expression. Tony turns grimacing to the bottle. Wait, how is it more than half empty already?

“If you’re gonna start a lecture don’t bother.” warns Tony, the bitter edge of the words undercut by the faint slur in his voice. When he doesn’t get a reply he brusquely gestures to the table. “Or, you know, care to join me?” he proposes without looking up. It’s not a real offer, as in he doesn’t think Cap will actually take it, but to his chagrin Rogers actually takes the seat across from him. “I’m afraid it doesn’t have the intended effect on me.”And dammit if he doesn’t sound truly regretful. Tony almost forgot: it’s ironic how the perks of a super metabolism can work against you. He wonders what it’s like, never be able to chemically drown away your sorrows, even for a single hour. He wonders how many times in his life Steve wished he could.

Another glass is emptied, while the long stretching silence makes it increasingly clear that Cap is not here for a fight, which would be maybe the only thing Tony could tenuously handle right now. A verbal fight, that is. They could go back and forth throwing insults at each other in a drunk fueled rage, at least on Tony’s part, and maybe that would even make him feel better. Instead Rogers keeps saying nothing, and that alone wears him off until he feels the dam start to crumble with nowhere left to hide anymore.

“You remember the, uh, the kid? From Berlin?” His mouth is working seemingly on his own volition. “The spider-kid?” It feels like the worst betrayal when he puts it like that.

_So. You’re spider-boy?_

_S-Spiderman._

It takes only a moment for Rogers to make the connection. “Yeah. From Queens.” he recalls.

The memories Tony has been carefully trying to suppress try to submerge him, but he can’t bring himself to stop at this point. “He was there, you know, when the ship came down.” Tony is staring very hard at the damp imprint of the glass on the table. “And then he got onto the ship, and I tried to send him home, ok? I told him to get off, but he’s a sneaky little bastard so of course he stowed away and ended up on an alien planet.” He’s angry now. Hates himself for being mad at a kid who just wanted to do good and had to pay the price for it.

“And he just… went. Like the rest of them. He was scared, and he begged, and I didn’t lift a finger to help him.” Tony can feel the threat of tears like a mounting pressure, so he smothers it with self-loathing and two other shots. He doesn’t know why he said that. For days it was all he could do not think about it, and now is crashing down on him in the worst way possible.

“There was nothing you could have done, Tony.” Steve’s word are soft and kind. “It would have happened anyway, anywhere.” Tony jerks his head up, staring the other man in the eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t give me that bullshit.” He springs to his feet, starts pacing unsteadily. “You don’t do that, you don’t just… take a fifteen year old kid, give him a weaponized suit and put him on a battlefield.” He needs to stop, blink the blur out of his eyes. “An enhanced kid, who wants to get into troubles and save lives, you don’t give him the means to hurt himself more, I mean who does that? What kind of person…”

He’s brought short by a hand on his shoulder. Steve is looking at him not merely with sorrow or pity but with genuine understanding. “We all make our choices, Tony.” he says with conviction. “Us, as well as the people we’re trying to protect. That is why sometimes, despite our best intentions, things still end up badly and people still get hurt. No matter how right we think we are or how good we try to be.” It’s something unexpected, coming from the Captain, but the words hold such certainty that Tony can finally see it, can see Steve’s mistakes, his guilt, his personal failures and how he shouldered them across two centuries; in the end Tony gets to appreciate all the doubts and regrets Steve has learned to live with, and feels like he finally understands his friend in a way he never has before.

“Also, not everything is under our control. What happened was a tragedy, but we can still fight for those who are left. To give them closure. To make sure it doesn’t happen ever again.” It suddenly becomes clear to Tony. Steve is offering more than a futile, hopeless goose chase, more than simple payback. He’s asking Tony to keep getting up because that’s the only thing that will keep them going, the thing that has kept a scrawny kid from Brooklyn from giving up for ninety years. In their situation, it’s a raft to a drowning man. Only Tony can choose if to take it now.

“I’m sorry about Barnes.” he says, because it needs to be said but also, surprisingly, because he means it. Steve exhales slowly. “Yeah. Me too.” He squeezes Tony’s shoulder one last time, then turns to the table eying the almost empty bottle longingly.

Tony figures it’s as much of a truce as they’re going to achieve about the spectacular debacle of the Accords, which now seems distant and petty anyway. To be honest, it’s fine by him for now.

“So, you really think there’s a point to this?” Steve turns to him, and Tony presses: “Going after Thanos, taking the one in a fourteen million chance that we can actually fix this?”

Steve straightens up, and either Tony is drunker than he thinks or Cap is actually smiling when he says: “We are the Avengers, after all. It’s right there in the title.”

_If we can’t protect the Earth you can be damn well sure we’ll avenge it._

His own words echo back to him from a lifetime ago. The world might have ended in the meantime, yet Tony finds they still hold true.

“All right then. Where should we start?”


End file.
